


Only Fools Rush In

by queenallyababwa



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017), Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types
Genre: 30 Days of Beauty and the Beast Challenge, Ficlets, M/M, Romance, Various AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenallyababwa/pseuds/queenallyababwa
Summary: "But I Can't Help Falling In Love With You"30 little fics that look at LeFou and Stanley's relationship in all different incarnations. Part of the 30 Days of Beauty and the Beast Writing Celebration.





	1. Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! A while back (like literally last week) my friend Gabby (GabbyD) and I were talking about doing a writing more fic and eventually it morphed into the idea of doing a 30-day prompt challenge. And then we thought - why not share our prompt list with everyone? 
> 
> Although the prompt list is perfect for any ship or character in BATB, I decided to focus on the couple that brought me to the fandom - Stanley and Lefou. I noticed there was a bit of decline of fics about them in recent weeks and since I just wrote a long Gaston/Lefou fic, I decided to devout my fics to these sweeties. I'm going to be doing canon era (shocking for me!) as well as different AUs - kid!fic, modern AU, high school etc. I like the idea of exploring different things and not really having to commit to a larger story.
> 
> *Posted this a day early due to a busy schedule on actual June 1st and also because I am really excited for it*

 The birds chirping, the crisp mountain air, nature all around, should have been a peaceful way for LeFou to wake up. He should have risen with a serene look on his face - like some sort of sleeping pill ad - instead of the cold sweat and panic he feels when he opens his eyes that morning, that morning when there’s another body laying next to him.

In the morning light filtering through the plastic of the tent, LeFou shifts himself to look over at his shoulder at Stanley, curled up beside him, though still in his own sleeping bag. 

Stanley.

_ Stanley. _

Stanley, who’s currently still in a blissful sleep, oblivious to the reality he was about to wake up. Try as he might, LeFou couldn’t help but admire the sleeping man. Even curled up in an too-large sweatshirt, his long hair falling this way and that, the slight shadow of facial hair from someone who had been in the woods without a shave for three days, and god, it looked like a tiny bug bite on his left cheek, he was still so handsome.  LeFou could admire anything about this man; his chestnut hair, his thick lashes. But what really brings him in is his full lips -  the lips that LeFou had kissed, had pulled closer to him in the dark of the night.

LeFou rolls over and wanted to bang his head against - something. They were in the middle of the woods. There were plenty of trees for him to do so. What else is one supposed to do when they’ve made out with their friend of five years and are trapped in the middle of the wilderness?

He sighs.

This wasn’t how the weekend was supposed to go at all. 

It was guy’s weekend. Just Gaston and LeFou and Tom, Dick, and Stanley. An escape from the monotony of their life in town.   Gaston would organize these little trips every few months and it usually was up at the Firmin hunting lodge, but every once in awhile they decided to venture into other camps, to go off the beaten path so to speak. This time they had ventured to some new fishing grounds - about an hour out of their usual way - and everything had gone swimmingly. Nobody fell into the lake off the boat. Bears did not ravage their food supply. Hell, LeFou even managed to catch a quite a few more fish than he usually did.

And it was all going well until it went  _ Brokeback Mountain. _

After Gaston and Tom and Dick had gone to bed and the fire had been extinguished, LeFou and Stanley crawled back into their tent. They had started talking. What they had been talking about, LeFou wasn’t even entirely sure. Stupid things. Things that made him laugh. He knew that Stanley was funny, though a different funny from what he was used to; he had his own sense of humor. LeFou probably knew they sounded like school children at a sleepover giggling like they did. But the conversation lingered on, grew serious, and soon they were staring at each other until LeFou was brave enough to bridge the space between them.

From what LeFou could gather from his returning memories was that they didn’t go very far. Just kissing, clinging to each other, seeking warmth. But even still. He made out with his friend. 

How could be so stupid? All of those sitcom cautionary tales, all of the advice, ignored for the favor of a few heated moments to stave off the the cold of the night. In one fell swoop, he’s obliterated the group dynamic that has served them so well. It was just supposed to be The Guys, no worrying about being attractive or appealing to one another. Just genuine friendship. 

(Although, years ago, LeFou clung to the idea of Gaston’s affection before he decided to finally set the torch down.) 

And . . .  he guessed . . . he still felt all those feelings of friendship that for Stanley. But there was still that attraction. Mutual attraction that was realized in the clean air of the woods. 

God, what a mess he’s made.

He tries to shake it off as he sits up and prepares himself to freeze when he leaves the sleeping bag to slip on his hiking boots. He needs a moment when he’s not surrounded by  _ people _ , and especially  _ people he’s made out with _ to sort this out. He thanks God for the solicitude of his surroundings as he shivers and tugs on the boots, lacing them up. He shrugs on his coat, stands up, and tries to leave without disturbing Stanley.

When he exits the tent, Tom and Gaston are already up, seated around the firepit holding mugs of coffee that was brewed with the pot sitting over the fire. The men greet him hoarsely - sore throats from the cold - and tell him that Dick went to take a piss (“Thanks for keeping me in the loop”) and ask if he would like a cup of coffee?

He takes it and decides that he’s not going to join Gaston on the fallen log. 

“Where you off to?” Gaston asks, curious with a touch of a laugh. 

“Somewhere,” LeFou answers. 

“To take a leak or -?”

“Get some peace and quiet, hopefully,” he tells him honestly. “Enjoy creation?”

“That sounds pretty hippie,” Tom says, taking a sip of his coffee with a smirk. “Have fun meditating’, LeFou.”

There is a very small bluff overlooking the lake not very far from their campsite - a five minute walk at most. When the group had first found it while hiking towards the water and LeFou had said he wanted to stay up there forever, just watching the wind sway the evergreen trees and wind ripple the lake. And with the group leaving for home very soon, this was the last chance he had to really enjoy the place before they packed up the truck.  

He sits down on the grass and takes a sip of coffee to try and keep himself warm as the wind whipped around him. He closes his eyes.

“They said I might find you here,” Stanley says, breaking LeFou’s thoughts.

He turns around and sees the other man, a knitted cap covering his bedhead, his coat awkwardly layered over the sweatshirt from last night, the bottom of his flannel pajama pants half-tucked into his boots from when he tugged them on. And still adorable. 

“They know me,” LeFou tells him with a sigh. He pats the grass next to him. They might as well talk this out. 

Stanley joins him and crosses his legs. He doesn’t know how to broach the subject, either, clearly uneasy about opening up that massive can of worms. Instead, he observes, “You were right about this place.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You know,” LeFou begins, picking up his coffee mug, wrapping his hands around its warmth. “It kind of reminds me of this place I used to go to when I was a kid. It was by the sea where we lived for a couple years. Used to just go out there all the time and watch boats go to the harbor. I liked it the best when the dolphins used to play in the surf.” He takes a sip of coffee before he continued. “Didn’t have a lot of friends when he lived there, so it was the place where I just kinda went and mellowed out.” He sighed. “And I don’t really have a lot of friends now so I wanted to talk about last night.”

“Oh.” Stanley seems relieved that he wasn’t the one to ask first, his shoulders falling into a relaxed position.“I came up here to talk to you about that . . . ”

But even though they both had it on the their minds, they were both waiting for the confession of feelings from the other. Waiting, guarding their own feelings because what if the other said something they didn’t want to hear? In this gay Mexican standoff, LeFou decides that he needs to be the one to take the first shot at it.

“Look, I really like you, Stan,” LeFou says. “We’ve been friends for years now. And I don’t know, part of me is conflicted because I want this to be something more but at the same time we have the group to think about.”

“The group?” Stanley looks confused. 

“You know. The guys.” Tom, Dick, and Gaston were so omnipresent in both of their lives, it wasn’t like they could avoid them and their prying eyes. Even if they hid their affair, sooner or later it would slip and they’d know that two of their friends were getting together. LeFou couldn’t even imagine what their reaction would be . . . 

“Yeah, but what do they have to do with anything?” Stanley says, boldly. He’s so young, LeFou remembers - if four years counted for youth in this situation - and he admires his throw-caution-to-the-wind attitude. 

He wants to dream of a future where LeFou and Stanley can co-exist with LeFou, Gaston, Tom, Dick, and Stanley. Where going out together like usually wouldn’t feel like having three hangers-on for a date. Where they didn’t feel like they had to refrain from being affectionate for the sake of making things awkward. Where they could be themselves. 

But they have to be realistic.

“Look,” he starts, drawing it out. “I know that if we changed anything, if you and I -” he makes a strange motion with his hands, trying to convey his meaning. Stanley seems to get it, nodding. “Then it would just be weird for everyone. It’s like that in every single show - the friends get together and it changes everything.”

Stanley considers this but then takes LeFou’s hand. Unlike his own, they are cold - they weren’t gripping a mug off fresh coffee - and the touch wakes him up. But the cold touch sends his eyes to look at them. His fingers are long and lean and  _ beautiful _ . God. 

He looks up to those dark eyes. Usually so intense, but they seemed soft as he tells him gently, “I think the cast of  _ Friends  _ survived pretty well when Chandler and Monica got together.”

LeFou smiles. How can this handsome man be so  _ dorky _ . Five years as friends and he shouldn’t be so surprised by Stanley’s references and quips but today they’re something more than  _ typical Stan _ . They’re endearing. And, surprisingly, just something he needs to hear. 

“But you do like me?” The phrase seems, again, so youthful. 

“Very much so,” he admits, the words caught on his breath. 

Stanley smiles as their fingers interweave. He tells it straight with a reassuring, “Then forget about Tom and Dick and Gaston. They don’t have place in saying who and who we can’t like. Even if it’s the guy I’ve been getting beer with for half a decade now. If they were good friends, they wouldn’t care.”

LeFou supposes that’s true. But he knows that it can’t be always so easy.

A hand reaches across and touches LeFou’s cheek - the same spark of cold that shocks him awake. Awake to the fact that he’s here. 

Stanley tells him firmly, more sure than his whisper,“And I like you very much.”

And the two kiss again, in the light of day. When they part, LeFou falls against the other man’s chest, seeking more warmth from him rather than the coffee. He can smell the smoky scent of firewood and the slightest musk of a cologne be cannot recognize in the red sweatshirt. As he wraps his arms around him, nuzzles his head into his shoulder, he believes he could stay here forever. 


	2. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley watches Lefou from a lonely barstool, jealous. Takes place right before "Gaston."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! Here's day 2 finally! And look, it's my first Stanfou canon-era work! 
> 
> Just as a note, though, I will be on vacation all of next week, so my updates might be at weird times (not like they aren't now), but for the most part I have everything written to cover the week I'm gone, which is exciting because that never happens. I will try and read some of the lovely fics that have been posted here tomorrow while I'm on the road; I'm so excited that a lot of people are doing this as well!

 It seemed like the entire village has shown up on this night, the tables filled and a near-constant stream of laughter hanging in the air. The tavern was always so loud at this time of night and with even more people crammed into the building, the plaster walls reverberated with the sounds of all the gossip and singing and bickering of every person in the village. When Stanley ducked his head inside, he felt as though he was sticking his head in a beehive. A blur of color and people, he couldn’t tell where his friends were. 

He was a regular, along with Tom and Dick, meeting for a drink after suppertime. But when he scanned the room, he couldn’t find them in the sea of Villeneuve. After waiting a few moments by the door to see if the two would show up, he finally decided to walk in on his own, go to the bar and wait for them. 

Stanley wasn’t quite sure what had compelled all of their small village to decide to pack themselves into the tavern that night, being weeks away from the closest holiday. But with all of those bodies inside, paired with the warm summer day, it was very warm. Stanley put his coat and hat by the front door, trekking on through the mass of humanity in his shirtsleeves and vest. From the corner, the small assembled band played a hazy tune - too slow of a song to dance to but pleasant enough to hear.

He passed the crowded table, headed for the bar, and spied his sisters - Claudette, Laurette, and Paulette - all sitting in a row, wearing quite-near their Sunday best, casting flirty smiles across the room. When Stanley passed them, he saw to whom those smiles and girlish playing of curls were being projected.

The decorated war hero sat on his throne and beside him his ever-loyal companion clung to the side of the chair. A scene - even in the crowded bar - that was common on every other day. Gaston was playing with a dagger in hand, LeFou was leaning forward, talking (most likely singing his praises, although the crowd made it impossible for Stanley to hear.)

Stanley turned his head away and went straight to the bar.

Sure, Gaston was the town hero, a perfect specimen of a man in his still glittering captain’s coat, and everyone - including Stanley - admired him. But LeFou. 

( _ LeFou. Oh beautiful LeFou with his adorable gap-tooth smiled, loud and cheery voice that carried through the market square, and quick and charming wit that had Stanley struggling to keep himself from choking on his beer in laughter. _ )

Something panged Stanley when he looked at the man. The man hidden in the shadows, running the show like a puppeteer. He was always hidden underneath the massive light that was Gaston, cast aside and forgotten about by the other villagers. And yet, he devoted all his attention to the man who caused him to disappear.

( _ And Stanley could see it in the man’s eyes. He knew those glances too well because he was guilty of them every now and again. LeFou was in love with Gaston. Although almost everyone in the village was in love with Gaston, Stanley recognized this love more than adoration. And if LeFou was not in love than at the  very least he was clearly infatuated with him. _ )

Something about this . . .  angered Stanley. Made him feel something every time he saw the smaller man laugh and spin Gaston old war tales anew. As he walked up to the  bar, he realized exactly what he was - he was jealous. He was jealous of Gaston and not in the typical way that young men were jealous of Gaston - jealous of his good looks or his natural charm or gunmanship. 

He was jealous of Gaston because of the attention he got from LeFou. Jealous that LeFou thought the sun shined out of Gaston’s ass, blinded by love or infatuation or whatever, and couldn’t see that someone  _ else _ actually felt those feelings towards him.

He sighed and shook his head of the thought.

They were all lost causes. 

He turned his back on the whole scene when he went up to the bar. At once, Adrain the bartender acknowledged him with a, “Stan! The usual?”

He looked over his shoulder at the pair sitting by the fire. He looked back at Adrian. “The usual,” he sighed. 

 


	3. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although he knows showmances never work out, Lefou can't help himself falling for the new Charles Atlas approved man at the local production of Rocky Horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A while back I posted a little bit about a Rocky Horror AU on my blog (@thestanfoubrew) and since the show is synomous with midnight and midnight movies, I thought I would give it a show in this chapter. There might be more of this AU in the future.

The green room of the theatre was always abuzz with a sense of last-minute excited panic. All around, ensemble memebers were adjusting their cumberbunds and bowties, popping off the tops of shocker red lipstick, unrolling and sliding on pairs of fishnet tights and platform heels as midnight was drawing closer. Filtering down the stairs from the upstairs theatre, the sound of at least two hundred buzzed college students and giddy high schoolers (and even some of the occasional old-timers) only added to the energy of the cast of the Villevenue community theatre’s production of _The Rocky Horror Show._

As was tradition, after the cast got their half-hour call, the doors opened to the audience and the Criminologist (An Expert) - along with a few other cast members who were already prepped for the show - lead the assembled group into several games to the mirth of regulars and the mortification of the first time attendees, the so-called Virgins. Through the somewhat muted speaker overhead, they could hear Lumiere cracking jokes with the audience members. Only his third performance as the narrator of the show, he was growing more and more comfortable with the role. It was definitely more of a challenge than his days as Riff Raff (A Handyman), but if there was anyone who would embrace a new role, Lumiere was the man.

But Lefou? Lefou was very comfortable as Eddie (Ex-Delivery Boy) and as Dr Scott (A Rival Scientist). He had a solid two years of monthly performances under his belt and knew the insides and out of the short-lived rocker and his return as the wheelchair bound academic. He had no plans to learn Dr. Frank-N-Furter’s music, despite the instance of the director that he would make a good Frank understudy, or even auditioning for the Criminologist when the spot opened up.

Nope. He was very comfortable in his dark wash jeans and leather jacket and his secret fishnets under his boots for his character switch.

He was just adding the finishing touches to his heavy eyeliner in the mirror, finishing off his transformation into the rocker-persona. Just a few more scribbles with the dark pencil and an extra blast of hairspray on his pompadour for good luck and he was ready.

But through the mirror, he caught sight of something that nearly made him drop the pencil and shatter it onto the table he was leaning over. Behind him, he caught sight of Stanley - the company’s brand-new recipient of the Charles Atlas Seal of Approval, Rocky (A Creation) - adjusting his bathrobe to reveal his costume - if it could even be called a costume as it was only the pair of mini gold-colored shorts. Oiled up, ready to be wrapped in ace bandages for his big scene, he was headed towards the mirror.

Lefou bit his lip and told himself to be professional.

He and Stanley had spoken a few times when they weren't rehearsing. They had laughed, talked a little. He seemed pleasant enough, from what Lefou could tell when they first met. Nice, and with a enthralling voice from the preview of “The Sword of Damocles” he heard a few sessions ago during a full-cast sing through.

But apparently his voice wasn't the only thing that enthralled Lefou.

They stood together in front of the mirror, Stanley fixing his hair and Lefou retracing his eyeliner, trying to keep himself calm and not look over at the glinting abs bristling underneath the robe. They offered each other smiles as Lefou tried to focus on his work instead of the blush creeping up from the collar of his white tee-shirt. That was, of course, until Stanley threw him completely off-guard by watching him do his makeup, the heat of his eyes burning into the side of his face.

He looked over at the Adonis.

“You sure you have enough eyeliner there?” Stanley joked.

“Oh, I go through about half a stick a performance, at least,” Lefou said with a laugh. “I expect a personal thank-you letter for keeping L’Oreal in business.”

Stanley smiled and played with his hair - the director had decided against a phony blonde wig and instead let Stanley keep his natural dark locks. He bit his lip which looked like it had a layer of baby pink lipstick - a subtle touch that made Lefou want to avert his eyes more. God damn was this guy hot.

“You nervous?” Lefou dared to ask as he reached for his hairspray, trying to distract himself.

“A bit,” Stanley admitted.

“You’ll be great,” Lefou assured him. “I mean, you’re perfect.”

_Well there went being professional._

Stanley looked over, taken by surprise by the compliment.

“Oh god, I didn’t mean you know perfect as in - but perfect as in perfect for Rocky -” he sputtered out, trying to fix this but Stanley grabbed his hand.

“Thank you, Lefou,” he said softly. “It means a lot to me. You're a great performer and I look up to you.”

Lefou nodded, gulped as Stanley turned when he heard his name called by a dresser who had the bandages ready to roll onto his body.

“Now I have to go turn into a mummy,” he said with a laugh. “But if I don't see you again, break a leg.”

“Right,” Lefou murmured. “Break a leg.”

He watched as his crush disappeared into the crowd of Transylvanians in gaudy suits and top hats as above them, the beginning chords of “Science Fiction, Double Feature” began, the voice crooning, “ _Michael Rennie was ill The Day The Earth Stood Still, but he told us where we stand_. . .” And Lefou was left beside himself, midnight on the dot, flushed over this budding showmance.

 


	4. Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lefou and Stanley adjust to their new life as parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a while back I wrote some obscenely long text posts about a dads!AU where Lefou and Stanley decide to have a child with one of Stanley's sisters - one of the village lasses - as the surrogate mother. I loved writing the posts so I thought I would flesh it out a little bit into this ficlet. Enjoy; I'd love to hear some feedback if you'd like me to perhaps do more of this AU?

Try as new parents might, countless readings of baby books can never quite prepare anyone for the real deal. Just starting into their venture of fatherhood, Lefou and Stanley knew this very well. Having poured over Baby’s First Year from the moment they decided to have a child, the pages did nothing for them for - after hours of standing right beside Laurette through her labor - when the doctor handed them little Emilien for the first time, squabbling and pink and wrapped only in a blanket,q brand new. It was as if - for a moment - all that reading had been for naught and an overwhelming sense of “What do we do?” fell over them.

But now they were three weeks a family and things were starting to fall into place. They still wore the marks of new parents - tired eyes and messy hair and spit-up stained shirts - but now the look was becoming more of their normal. They were finally finding a nice rhythm to their days and they were finding that the best time of the day was surprisingly bathtime, just before they put their son down for the night.

Their first time giving Emilien a bath, they expected him to squabble and make a fuss - after all, they had been washing him with a sponge for the past few weeks while his umbilical cord healed and being completely in water would be a strange sensation- but he took to the water, well, like a fish.

“Look how happy he is,” Stanley marveled as their son practically cooed at the warm water being poured onto his belly by his father.

“I was expected dramatics,” Lefou admitted as he soaped up a washcloth. “He sobbed when we put him in the stroller for the first time for like twenty minutes.”

“Don’t remind me,” Stanley said shaking his head as he looked down at his son. “You liked being a little drama queen about that, huh?”

Emilien didn’t respond, looking away as Stanley laughed.

“Well, this could go south pretty fast with adding soap,” Lefou warned as he handed his husband the washcloth.

“Hey, little man, I need to wash your hair, so don’t flip out, okay?” Stanley pleaded. Emilien had a lot of hair for someone only being three weeks old, all of it dark and curly just like his father’s. But when the washcloth began to brush those curls gently, he didn’t even react other than looking up at Stanley, captured by his words.

“Dads - one, Emilien - zero,” Lefou noted, just as surprised as his partner.

Stanley took the cup of water and poured the soap off of Emilien’s head, away from his eyes. When he poured the rest of the water onto the baby’s body, his son made a happy scuffling sound.

“God, I can’t believe he’s actually enjoying this,” Stanley said. “Maybe we can get him to swim lessons? Take him to the pool. He could be a lifeguard like I was. Join the swim team?” He looked to Emilien. “He could be just like his dad -”

“Let’s focus on getting him out of diapers before we worry about him becoming a swim champ,” Lefou told him with a laugh as he laid out the towel - the hooded one shaped like a shark that Stanley received from Tom and his wife Colette as a gift- on the counter next to the sink where they were bathing Emilien. “Let’s get him ready for bed.”

Stanley lifted Emilien out of the tub and placed him in the towel, wrapping the grey terry-cloth folds around him before scooping him up and taking him out of the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom.

“Which pajama tonight?” Lefou holds up the two options proudly after pulling them from the laundry basket on the floor. One had the phrase“I did 9 Months Inside - Now Serving 18 Years Parole” printed on it and the other had “I Drink Until I Pass Out” and a graphic of a bottle. Both onesies were just new additions to the steadily growing collection of baby clothes with ironic phrases that Lefou found online.

Stanley scoffed as he dried Emilien off on the couple’s bed. “Is that what that package the came in the mail yesterday was?”

“Maybe.” His husband laughed, grinning as he looked at his recent purchase. “I think they’re hilarious. He can’t even hold his head up and he’s already a dangerous felon.”

Stanley rubbed his son’s belly with the towel before getting to work on putting on his diaper, pulling a new one from the pack on top of the adjacent nightstand, remember to still keep a hand on his son the entire time. He looked back to the yawning newborn and shook his head.“Your one daddy dreams of you becoming an Olympic swimmer while the other one jokes about you being a criminal.” He looked up to Lefou, “We’re sending him mixed messages.”

“So ‘Drink Until I Pass Out’ then?” Lefou asked.

Stanley hated to admit but he actually thought that one was the best Lefou had purchased in a while. He nodded and then looked back to Emilien and getting to work on getting his clothes on.

“He’d better drink until he passes out,” Stanley said, snapping Emilien’s onesie together and pulling him up to rest against his shoulder. With a sharp eye he looked over to the infant clinging to him and told him, “Don’t do the thing where you lay in your crib until it’s 3am, staring at us through the baby monitor.”

“I’m going to go fix his bottle,” Lefou said, ducking out of the room, leaving Stanley and Emilien alone as he went into the kitchen. This was the start of the real bedtime routine - a quick feeding before Emilien went to his nursery and Lefou usually sang him completely to sleep.

The young man held his son closer and sighed. It still felt strange, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this tiny human was his son. When he and Lefou decided to have a baby, he had been so anxious about being a father. He was so young and so uncertain, but as he sat back against the headboard and Emilien yawned against his chest, he felt peace rush over him. He had a husband, a wonderful home, and a son.

The books could have never prepared him for how rewarding this would be. 


	5. Leather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smell of leather comes to haunt Lefou.

On days when he was trying to court Belle, Gaston dabbed a bit of the cologne he had purchased in Paris. Although he maintained himself a very small-town man, he knew the difference of a little eau de parfum made to hide his usual manly musk (though he usually was very confident in said musk.) When he returned from hunting trips, a glorious victor, he smelled of sweat and blood and wood chips and pine. After a night in the tavern, he smelled of ale and of pipe tobacco that filled the air of the bar and clung to his clothes. But even with all of those scents, he always smelled of leather.

Leather boots, leather gloves, his wide leather belt with the gold buckle (another spoil of his time as a war captain.) And the last time Lefou had seen him alive, he had been wearing his tan suede overcoat. It was relatively new - just fashioned together by one of the village tailors - and it still smelled of animal hide. He could still remember the way that the coat draped over his frame, even though the last time he saw Gaston wear that coat, things went very wrong.

It still aches Lefou to recall the events of that night from time to time, almost a year later. All of the horrible things Gaston did, all of the realizations that dawned on Lefou that night, did not completely erase two decades of what had seemed like genuine friendship.

His friend has died. And there is nothing he can do to bring him back.

And every now and again, all of the feelings, all of the things he wanted to say but never had the chance, come flooding over him.

He just doesn’t expect it to come when he smells leather.

When he’s standing in the middle of his bedroom, going through a box of old belts, it hits him like a tidal wave. He doesn’t know where he is or what’s exactly happening other than he feels dizzy and he’s crying.

What grounds him, though, is the smell of lilac. The smell of lilac and hair oils and freshly washed fabric and a sweet eau de parfum much different from the musky notes that clung to Gaston’s clothes. The smell brings him back as he leans against his boyfriend’s chest, wrapped in his warm embrace, reassuring.

 

 

 


	6. First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lefou and Stanley's first dance at the Royal Ball leads to their first kiss.

The ball celebrating the Prince’s return to sovereignty after years of isolation from his people lasted well into the night. Of course, as the hours wore on and the sun set through the large windows of the grand ballroom, more and more people began to retreat to their homes in the village or to chambers in the floors above. Stepping on wilted white rose petals from the bountiful archways of flowers over the dance floor scattered on the ground and by the light of the candelabras, the remaining couples danced to a slow waltz. The acclaimed opera singer had retired for the night but her husband the harpsichordist played on with several other members of a tired band.

As he and his partner danced past the small stage on which the band had been playing, Stanley caught one of the violinists try to muffle a yawn as he tapped the beat out with his foot. Stanley was exhausted as well and he knew that he had a long horse ride home to Villenvenue, but when he looked down at the person clinging to his arms in a waltz, he was in love with the idea of dancing all night, never leaving this dance floor.

His daring move of falling into Lefou’s arms when they switched partners that afternoon had lead to the best evening of Stanley’s life. He was so uncertain at first, seeing the other man’s surprised face, but as they twirled the uncertainty faded and both knew that this felt right. And when they were broken from their paradise when it came time to switch dance partners yet again, they tried to gravitate back to each other in any way possible. As the night wore on and the dances became less formal, it was easier to slip back into each other’s arms.

When the song ended, Stanley suggested they go outside for some fresh air. Lefou smiled as the two linked arms and headed outside to the castle’s gardens. The next waltz floated out of the open doors and down to the large porch that overlooked countless topiaries and fountains. It was breathtaking, more beauty than any place that Stanley had seen in their little village. But both men didn’t take time to marvel at the greenery surrounding them when they sat down on the bench at the very end of the porch.

“My feet are killing me,” Lefou huffed as sat back. He sighed and crossed his one leg over the other, taking a hand to rub his sore calf and ankle. “I haven’t dance so much in my entire life.”

“Neither have I,” Stanley admitted. The effects of waltzing for hours on end haven’t quite had their full effect on him, though he knows that it will probably come crashing very soon. But for the time being, just sitting next to Lefou leaves him exhilarated.

In one night, all those daydreams, all of those times he spent practically pining for Lefou at the tavern, were coming true.

“I wonder if Belle would be kind enough to let me stay for the night,” Lefou mumbles, massaging his calf. “I’m not quite in the mood to ride Ami through the woods this late at night.”

Over the past few weeks since the battle on the castle grounds, Lefou had grown close to the the soon to-be Princess (Stanley still struggled to wrap his mind around the idea that the girl so strange with her nose always in a book and in search of pieces for her latest inventions had ascended to royalty). Lefou had apologized for his actions over the course of many years, but his apology had spurred a conversation and soon the two were unlikely friends. (Whisper had it that she was even teaching him how to read.)

“There must be a thousand rooms in this castle,” Stanley mused. “Surely there is room for us somewhere.”

“Us?” Lefou repeated, giving Stanley a quizzical look.

Stanley realized that he needed to clear things up. “I might not head home either.”And then he made things worse. “I don't want this night to end because I would dance every dance with you, Lefou.”

Everything up until then had been going so well, that he was keeping calm and he couldn’t believe he was messing up so late in the night. Even in the dark, Stanley could see Lefou blush at the comment and Stanley’s mind raced in how to fix this until Lefou set his leg down and looked at him, his eyes sincere.

“I needed this,” was all he said as he reached forward and placed his hands over Stanley’s.

Stanley nodded. He knew how hard - even after finding the support of someone unexpectedly - it was to be without the man with whom he had spent nearly waking moment. Gaston’s death must have made him feel lost, unsure of his place in the village. Being invited to this ball, he knew, meant that he was still accepted by everyone despite the years of being Gaston’s right-hand man.

He wasn’t quite sure what to say that could even try and comfort the pain he knew Lefou was in through all of this. “You’re welcome,” Stanley tried.

Lefou smiled, showing off his adorable gap-toothed smirk.

And then he did something Stanley was no expected. He leaned forward and brushed his cheek. Stanley had to take a deep breath to process this whole thing.

As Lefou pulled away, he was even more red than before and it was his turn to get flustered, frantically saying, “I’m sorry if you weren’t expecting that but I just -”

But Stanley laughed and pulled him in his arms, reassuring Lefou with another kiss - this time on the lips - that he wanted this. This was all he had ever wanted.   



	7. Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lefou reflects on his first night with Stanley in the morning light.

Stanley’s bedroom in his more than modest cottage sat perched in the gable of the house with a large window overlooking the small garden. Ivy branches cling to the shutters and obscure only some of the light filtering through the curtains and casting a bright glow directly on the wide and spacious bed and the two naked bodies entwined in bed sheets.

The bed was wider and nicer than Lefou’s one at home, but it really didn’t surprise him. The Bernard family had wealth - wealth at least in comparison to the rest of the village - with their textile store. For years, the fog that had covered the entire town and clouded everyone’s memory made everyone forget how that wealth had come to be. But once the curse was lifted, the Bernards began to supply head dresses and gowns for the lavish parties held in the castle as they had done before the castle vanished (though not quite to the excess in the years beforehand).

As Lefou rolled over in bed and pulled the sheet with him to maintain some modesty, he smiled to himself, joking about how they probably made the bedclothes from fine linen from the store as well. He could get used to sleeping here.

With a smirk as he faced the other man, somehow looking radiant at this early hour, he thought he could get used to sleeping with Stanley.

The night before had been unexpected.

Their weekends were often spent in the surrounding forests with a picnic and a good book as Stanley worked with Lefou on his reading. Both Pere Robert and Belle were generous enough to lend them books and together on a blanket, shaded by the grove overhead, they poured over story after story. Collections of fairy tales and folktales first, they were easiest to read. But as the months wore on and Lefou stumbled less over words, they started reading things like Shakespeare.

After finishing The Tempest that day, Lefou decided to stay longer. Staying longer meant staying for dinner and staying for dinner eventually meant the two of them sat and kissed languidly in Stanley’s soft and very big bed. The kissing eventually lead them to holding each other, nude and eager to touch one another.

Stanley, through gasps, confessed to Lefou that he was a virgin. Lefou kissed his forehead and assured him they would go slow. Some of the fumbling, the fervent frenzy, reminded Lefou of his own first time years ago. But even will the moments when he had to remind Stanley to take it easy and slow down or tell him what to do, it had been the most exhilarating experience of Lefou’s life. The other times he had come undone in another man’s hands were just that - frantic grasps at pleasure during the war when everything was bleak. But this time around, it was slower and more meticulous; Stanley paid attention to Lefou’s reactions with things and did what felt nice for the both of them.

And it wasn’t even just the careful attention that made this the best night of Lefou’s life.

He was finally with a man he loved.

He smiled at the realization. He loved Stanley.

He leaned forward and kissed the other’s forehead, pushing aside the strands of dark hair that had fallen out of the lavish hairstyle Stanley usually had. He pulled himself closer, wrapping his arms around his love. Stanley, clearly in a fog between being awake and sleep, mumbled something about sleeping in as he rested his forehead against Lefou’s.

And even though the bright morning light tried its best, it couldn’t pull the lovers from their bed.


	8. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley tries to start a summer camp romance with a little help from his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOHOO Finally some summe camp AU aka my favorite AU of all time. I really want to write some more of this, it was a blast to write. Enjoy~

Stanley’s hands were covered in red dye in a chaotic pattern that splashed up to his elbows, trickling down his forearm in an almost blood-like pattern.

“Did you kill a man?” Tom asked above the clatter of lunchtime at camp as he returned to the table with a pitcher of lemonade.

Stanley smirked and held out his brown plastic cup for his co-counselor to fill up, but the lemonade almost missed his cup when Dick reached across the table and grabbed his other hand to examine it. 

“Stanley the stone-cold killer,” Dick proclaimed as he looked at the stains. “Can we call you Stanley Todd now?”

“Good one, Dick,” Tom laughed as they sat down. Dick let go of Stanley’s hand.

“I don’t think calling me a murderer is good lunch time conversation to have in front of a bunch of nine-year-olds,” Stanley said, shifting his eyes to the younger kids at the end of the table, who were too wrapped up in a burp contest to listen to the three non-unit counselors. “But somehow I knew this conversation was going to go there when you two goons had lunch off.”

Tom and Dick worked in the kitchen and by some divine power (a malevolent divine power, Stanley joked) the two had their meal off that same day and time that week, so Stanley was assaulted with questions two fold. Both men were particularly nosey and always liked to get into Stanley’s business. 

Especially when that business regarded his crush, Lefou. 

“If you must know, it was tie-dye day,” Stanley told them and then leaned forward, divulging his secret to the two so they wouldn’t pry any further. “And I made a shirt for You-Know-Who.”

“Oh, You-Know-Who, huh?” Tom chortled as he sat down and reached and grabbed the bowl of chicken tenders to grab a few for himself. 

“You know, we need to come up with a better code name for him,” Dick said, passing Tom the bottle of ketchup. “It makes him sound like he’s Voldemort.”

“Well, the Dark Lord is headed over here right now,” Tom said smoothly, motioning behind Dick and Stanley with his head as he made a puddle out of his ketchup. 

“Oh sh-,” Stanley caught himself before he could let the obscene word tumble and finished with the camp-appropriate, “shoot.” He sat a little taller and asked, “How’s my hair?”

“Surprisingly dashing for someone who hasn’t been able to deep condition in weeks,” Tom assured him. “You look good, except for the arms.”

Quickly, Stanley threw his arms underneath the table as Lefou passed by with a peanut butter sandwich on his plate. Somehow, he choked out a, “Hey, Lefou!”

The other man whipped his head around and stopped in his tracks when he heard his voice. He smiled and walked over to the table.

“Hey, Stan.”

Lefou’s dark hair was frizzy from the humid day, his face was flushed with a sunburn, his glassed looked like they had a smudge of dirt on them, and he was wearing a shirt that said “Scruffy Looking Nerf Herder” in the Star Wars font. He was gorgeous. 

“How’s it going?” he asked, smiling warmly.

“Oh, you know, usual arts and crafts shenanigans,” Stanley answered, trying to stay cool and collected. 

“Were you doing something with paint?” Lefou asked, scratching his cheek to indicate where Stanley was stained. “You have something red on your face.”

Instinctively, Stanley threw his hand up to try to get it off, though he knew it wouldn’t help at all. Of course, this left his red-dye soaked arms on full display. 

“Ah. Tie-dye,” Lefou said with a nod. 

“Yeah, we had the Chipmunks in today,” Stanley told him, referring to the group of eleven and twelve-year-olds who had taken over the craft hut that day.

“Wish the Hedgehogs could tie-dye something,” Lefou said with a sigh; he was overseeing a group of seven and eight year-old boys with Belle Beaumont and the youngest campers weren’t given all of the same crafting choices as the older ones. “Mostly because I haven’t made anything since Color War last session.”

“Who knows? Maybe you’ll get a break when someone else is tie-dyeing,” Stanley said.

“Maybe,” Lefou said. 

“Lefou!” A voice called from the other end of the mess hall. Stanley sees little Chip Potts practically standing in his seat trying to get the other’s attention. Chip was a Hedgehog and was pretty much attached to Lefou’s hip, following him around like a little duck. The story was that Lefou had actually really helped Chip with his homesickness the first few weeks through reassuring words, singalongs, and the occasional contraband sweet,the boy came to adore his cabin counselor. 

“Duty calls,” Lefou motioned to chip. “See ya, Stan.”

And with that, he left to go sit down with his young charge. Stanley watched him walk all the way to his table and sit down before sighing and looking to Tom, who had the most knowing grin on his face as he sipped his lemonade.

“That was smooth,” he said with approval. 

“It was too smooth,” Dick said flatly. “There was no flirt behind that. You could have done better.”

Stanley sighed and grabbed the fruit plate, using the tongs to grab a few slices of melon. Dick was right, he was always so friendly with Lefou. A little too friendly. There was nothing about the way he conducted himself around the other man that would suggest that he was interested in him in anything other than a friendship.

He had developed his crush early in the summer during training and it had only blossomed when the two spent time in the craft hut together, working on making pet rocks with the Hedgehogs. Lefou was always just so kind and funny and Stanley looked for anyway possible to be with him despite their busy schedules. The problem was, however, that because Lefou was so friendly, he was a fairly popular counselor and often Stanley struggled to get his attention at all. 

“You’ve got to make a move, Stan. You’ve been mooning over him the entire summer,” Dick told him frankly. “And this summer isn’t going to last forever.”

***

The next afternoon, Stanley stood behind the large oak that towers in front of the Hedgehog boys cabin during Rest Hour. He watched as Lefou returned to the cabin with the stack of mail for his campers and stopped when he saw the cherry red tee-shirt hanging in the breeze on the wire hanging between the beams supporting the small porch. He held his breath as Lefou set the mail down on the porch’s railing and unclipped the shirt off the laundry line and read the note. But his heart leapt with joy when he saw the big smile that spread across Lefou’s face before he went inside.

***

Lefou came to dinner wearing the shirt. Sitting a few tables away with several of the performing arts counselors who were talking about sets and costume design for the upcoming musical, Stanley could hear other counselors compliment Lefou’s shirt as they walk by. 

“Yeah, someone made this for me,” he always told them grinning. 

And then there was that one magical moment when the two made eye contact and Lefou smiled knowingly, causing Stanley to look away and blush.

After dinner was finished, Stanley walked outside to look for Lefou, just as his note had said. He found him standing around with several other counselors. 

It was movie night after dinner - “Frozen, again,” Stanley heard Adam, one of the lifeguards on staff who was dating Belle, huff in disgust. Everyone was to head down the hill towards the rec hall, but in the meanwhile the camp was gather on the lawn in front of the mess hall, laughing, and playing a quasi-game of “Sharks and Minnows”.

“Just imagine how much cooler I’ll be in summerrrrrrr!”Stanley heard Lefou’s vibrato through the crowd, a near-perfect impression of the snowman, Olaf. 

“A, that actually sounded good,” Adam told him. “B, I never want to hear that song again. All the Hedgehog girls sing that and the other one all the time at the pool.”

“Oh you mean ‘Let It Go’?” Lefou asked, his smirk audible. “I can’t do Idina Menzel as well but I’ll try.” He took a deep breath, but noticed Stanley before he could start singing again. He smiled and nodded before turning and saying, “I’ll catch you guys later.”

Stanley took a moment to straighten his shirt and check to see if he still had anymore dye on his hand - thankful an intense shower had helped clear the majority of it away. 

“Hi,” Lefou greeted. 

“Hey,” Stanley tried to sound a little more nonchalant than he was feeling, his heart pounding. Uncertain what the other man was going to say about the note he had crafted with the help of Tom and Dick in the kitchen after hours, he prepared for himself.

But judging by the near smile-laugh on Lefou’s face, he didn’t need to prepare that much. 

“I, ah, just wanted to come over and thank you for the shirt,” Lefou told him. “I love it. How’d you know that red was my favorite color?”

“Oh, I just thought you looked good in it,” Stanley confessed. When he was working on the shirt at the end of the Chipmunk craft day, he decided to do a red and yellow starburst design because he remembered how handsome Lefou always looked in the camp’s traditional bright red polo shirt at the start and end of every session. 

Lefou blushed, nearly matching some of the tones in his shirt. “Thanks,” he said. He cleared his throat and asked, “Hey, so do you want to sit next to me at movie night tonight?”

Stanley sighed. “I'd love that.”

***

Tom and Dick walked in during the grand opening number of the movie - “Aw, dammit, we missed the ice men,” Tom huffed - hands still pruney from helping with cleanup, looking for their friend. Stanley looked away from the movie and motioned for them to come over to his spot. 

His spot right next to Lefou.


	9. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley gives Lefou something to smile about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH I didn't know how to do a summary for this??? I am super behind because I had a travel day today and I can't write in the car so this fic is short. I'll try and catch up tomorrow and Monday.

There was a space between Lefou’s front two teeth. It was a small space, but a space nonetheless. Sometimes when he catches a glance of himself in the mirror as he brushes his teeth in the morning, he traces the space with his tongue and wishes that he had had braces when he was younger. People always like the point the gap out when she see him smile and he feels like it makes him look like a cartoon character.  
  
There was a dusting of freckles on his shoulders. Most of they year, they blend into the rest of his skin, but as soon as the summer months dawn and he steps out into the sun, they spring forward. Every time that Lefou forgets to apply sunblock, he prays his bright red burn will make way for an actual tan. Maybe this year he'll look like Stanley or Gaston or maybe Dick who always looks bronzed June through September. But as he stares as his reflection, the burn just reveals the spots underneath.  
  
There were stretch marks on his stomach, his ass, his legs. Places that had gone through unexpected growth spurts during his teenage years - red and embarrassing back then, but now a soft silver color though they still made him want to cover himself. Even if he was generally pretty happy with his body, there was still times when he pinched an inch of his belly and felt shitty about his thighs.  
  
But not today. At least, that gap smile and those freckles and stretch marks were not the focus when he caught himself nude in the bedroom mirror as he returned from the bathroom, lead back to the king sized mattress by lamp on Stanley’s bedside table.  
  
The first things he sees is the light peppering of cranberry-colored lipstick marks, still in perfect kiss-shaped form, all over his body. He stops and lets his fingers traces one of them, right on the edge of his collarbone.  
  
“You wasted your new Smashbox matte lip pencil on me,” he tells his boyfriend, who is reclining against the bedframe, still red and glowing post-sex.  
  
Stanley bites his lip - his now lipstick-less lip - smirking. “You were too irresistible, mon amour. For you, I'd use an entire tube of lipstick.”  
  
And Lefou can't help but smile again - his gap tooth smile - at the thought. 


	10. Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lefou is salty about the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I finally got this chapter done!! It's one of my favorite prompts and I liked how this turned out - the Sassfou is real here haha. I'm going to hopefully catch up in the next couple of days.

“I don’t like sand,” LeFou huffed the moment his flip flops step off the wooden security of the railing and onto the actual beach. Stanley tried his hardest to hide his smirk as he pulls the cooler behind him, waiting for him to finish the iconic line. He looked back from the mob of Tom, Dick, Colette, Vera and their six kids zipping around, sprinting towards the water, to his disgruntled boyfriend who was making it a point to move as slowly as possible. 

LeFou was holding the tote bag and dragging the umbrella behind him, clearly struggling with the difference in terrain. With a dramatic sigh, he finally added, “It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.”

And that was when Stanley lost it, snorting. 

“You think my pain is funny, Stanley?” LeFou called out, indignant as he trudged onward down the gentle slope leading to the water.

“Extremely,” Stanley laughed. 

“Great. The entire world is against me right now,” LeFou groaned, kicking the sand forward as he shuffled. 

“I don’t know about the entire world,” Stanley told him.  

“The entire world,” LeFou said. “It’s hot. It’s humid. This beach is crowded. My hair looks like Einstein right now.” He mumbled something as he awkwardly stumbled before he groaned“And now my thighs are sticking together.”

LeFou struggled for a few more moments and said, pretty loudly if it was to be noted, “Thick thighs do not save lives.” 

Somehow, with the sticky thighs and the flip flops and the the umbrella and the tote bag filled with towels hindering his walking, LeFou managed to step up his pace so that he and Stanley were walking side-by-side. Stanley looked down to his boyfriend and sighed with a small smile. He knew this entire trip was going to be a nightmare for LeFou, and that he was most likely going to complain about his least-favorite place in the world, but Stanley was glad he decided to come instead of barricading himself in the air-conditioned bedroom.

But when you get offered a long weekend seaside escape, you take it. 

Dick had a timeshare at the beach and invited his friends to come and stay for a couple of days. Right after they finished work that Thursday, LeFou and Stanley packed themselves into the car and traveled well into the night before crashing in one of the countless guest rooms in the rental house. Today was their first actual day of vacation and Stanley was planning on making the most of it by spending it out in the sun. His boyfriend? Wanted to stay wrapped in the sheets and watch HBO, lounging the whole rest of the day in the comfort of the indoors. But with some convincing and pleading eyes, Stanley managed to get him out of bed and down to the beach with everyone else.

But it was clear, when they set everything down onto the sand, tented the umbrella and spread out their towels, that LeFou had no intention of doing anything beach related. He put on his sun hat, layered on the sunblock, and sat down right in the center of the umbrella’s coverage while Stanley tugged off his tank top.

“You don’t want to take a dip with me?” He asked his boyfriend who was currently shuffling through his bag.

LeFou shook his head as he pulled out his iPod and earbuds and a pair of sunglasses. “I downloaded  _ Jurassic Park  _ on audiobook and I’ve been meaning to listen to it forever.”

“You’re just going to read a book?”

“Yup.” Lefou slid back so that he was laying down. The umbrella’s span was just large enough to cover most of his body except for the ankle down. He put on the sunglasses and put in an earbud. “That is the plan.”

Stanley smirked and tossed his shirt aside onto his towel.  He had been planning on spending the whole day with LeFou, however it now looked like he was going to just end up babysitting the eldest of Tom and Dick’s brood, making sure riptides didn’t carry them away and remind them to reapply sunblock every hour. 

True to his prediction, that was exactly what ended up happening. He walked down to the small tent city that his friends had set up before being mauled by Tom’s daughters - Bridget and Cecile - who begged him to take them down to the surf. Dick’s youngest, Noelle  - roughly Cecile’s age - insisted on being included. Soon, with the aide of Tom, he was helping hoist the girls into incoming waves and helping them collect seashells. 

After what seemed like hours in the waves, Tom took a break by laying in the sun. 

With a sly look to Colette, who was keeping her youngest, little Nathanael, occupied with some sand toys, he turned to Bridget and Cecile. “Let’s bury your dad’s legs in the sand.”

The trio ended up doing more than just bury Tom’s leg - they ended up shaping the sand to look like a mermaid’s tail, much to Cecile’s delight. It actually left Stanley laughing well after he left the family to check on his boyfriend.

LeFou hadn’t moved since Stanley left, still reclining and listening to his audiobook. But the moment he saw Stanley jog up the beach towards him, he began to whistle the “Baywatch” theme. Stanley fell to his knees in the sand, right next to his boyfriend, and sighed, still smiling.

“It’s important to hydrate,” LeFou reminded him, not moving an inch. 

“On it, _mon amour,_ ” Stanley assured him as he pulled a bottle of water from the cooler and opened it before taking a long sip. He capped it and sat, grinning as a beachgoer moved just in the right direction so that he still caught a glance of sleeping merman Tom. 

“What’s the smile for?” LeFou asked.

“We’re on vacation?” Stanley retorted. “Some people like the beach, LeFou.”

LeFou huffed. “I can’t imagine why, though.” 

Stanley then explained, “We buried Tom’s legs while he slept. It was Cecile’s idea to make him a mermaid.”

“If you do that to me while I sleep I swear to god, you aren’t touching me until I have been properly unsanded,” LeFou said dryly. “And that could take weeks.”

Stanley smirked. “Oh yeah? What if I - ?” He rolled over in the sand, enough to cove himself, and then leaned forward, still covered in sand, and tried to grab onto LeFou’s arm and kiss him. LeFou squeaked in disgust and tried to keep him as far away as possible, but Stanley was too strong and was able to brush his lips on his boyfriend’s forehead.

“Stop.” 

“Can’t.” Kiss.

“Stanley! There is sand everywhere now, stop!” LeFou’s tone broke, caught on just a hint of a laugh.

“Won’t.” Kiss.

“ _ Stanley Norbert Bernard! Get your sand away from me _ !” LeFou shrieked, trying to roll away. 

Stanley sat up and burst out laughing and LeFou desperately tried to dust himself off. 

“This isn’t funny, Stan!” LeFou told him. “Now there is going to be sand all in my swimsuit.” He licked his lips and coughed. “God, I can taste it, Stanley!” He sighed. “I was just trying to enjoy my book.”

“I’m sorry,” Stanley laughed. “If I bought you a drink, would that make it better?”

LeFou hummed, trying to straighten himself up after the brief tussle between the couple. “I mean, I guess. It can’t do much about the sand in my swimsuit but it could get the taste out of my mouth?” 

“Would that ah -” Stanley shifted closer but LeFou pushed him gently.

“No. No touching,” LeFou told him. “You’re gonna have to do something incredible to get that back, Stan.”

The olive branch between Lefou and Stanley was a large pina colada served in a coconut. It wasn’t cheap, but Lefou brightened up when he saw it and sipped it gratefully while he continued with his audiobook. But Stanley doubted that a tropical drink would be what he needed when Tom woke up and found his legs disappeared under a thick blanket of sand, expertly sculpted into a fishtail. When he got himself out, trying not to ruin his daughter's’ handiwork, he chased Stanley back into the water.

The rest of the afternoon was spent more in the water more than the sand, drifting in the waves. Every once in awhile, while bobbing in the surf or while looking over his shoulder after a splash fight with Bridget, he’d see LeFou sitting up against the umbrella pole, still listening to  _ Jurassic Park _ . They catch each other’s eye and smile at each other.

Before he knew it, people began to pack up their things and leave, headed home after a long day in the sun. Pretty soon, Stanley knew, they’d need to join the other beachgoers and head back to the rental home or to a restaurant for dinner. Colette and Vera and Tom and Dick were hard at work trying to get everything together to leave, but Stanley decided to cling to the last few moments in the water for as long as possible.

And he was glad he did because when he looked up, he saw LeFou shuffle down the the bank towards the water. He had taken off his shirt and hat but was still wearing his flip flops. He was smiling softly and Stanley was just so momentarily mesmerized by the sight of his boyfriend that he was nearly knocked over by a wave.

“Decided to join me?” Stanley called  as he stabilized himself, grounding his feet firmer in the deep sand. 

“Regretfully, yeah,” LeFou shouted back. He was trudging in the same manor as he had done earlier in the day when they first stepped onto the beach,  but this time was a little more cautious leaving Stanley to wonder if LeFou had gotten sunburned on his feet while listening to his book. When he got the edge of the where the tide came in before he kicked off his flip flops and let the water wash over his ankles.

He immediately jumped back onto the security of the drier sand, away from where the waves could get him. “Nice try, Stan, it’s wet.”

“Aww, come on, LeFou,” Stanley pleaded, motioning for him to join him. 

LeFou sighed and slowly - ever so slowly - he walked back into the water, murmuring, “It’s  _ cold,  _ it’s cold, it’s cold . . .” as he shuffled through waves to get to Stanley. He was near when the speed of a wave picked up and knocked him over, sending him toppling into the water. At once, Stanley rushed to his side.

“Oh my god, LeFou are you okay?” He asked. All of the bitching and moaning about the sand had been funny, but this wipe out actually alarmed him. He offered a hand to a floundering LeFou in the rapid succession of waves following the one that knocked him over. 

LeFou didn’t go to the gym like Stanley, but he was strong enough to pull him in. Stanley went tumbling into the water, nearly on top of his boyfriend. He barely has time to think before he emerges, soaking wet. 

“Consider that payback for the sand, earlier,” LeFou tells him, smirking.

“I deserved that,” Stanley lamented as tried to get his footing back. He helped LeFou get back to his feet so that they were both standing in the water. 

He leaned over and kissed his boyfriend on the cheek, trying to show him how proud he was that he even step foot in the water. As he pulled back he whispered against LeFou’s ear, “You taste salty.”

“That’s because I am,” Lefou joked, falling against Stanley’s shoulder. With a breathy sigh he said something Stanley wasn’t expecting: “But, you know, this place isn’t completely terrible.”

And Stanley smiled to himself.

Relationships were all about compromise.


	11. Rejection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stanley helps Lefou cope with his grief from afar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied homophobia.

The first time that LeFou went to Stanley’s childhood home to meet his boyfriend’s mother and sisters for dinner, he was welcomed with open arms. Stanley’s maman had practically leapt at him to wrap him in her arms before she kissed his cheek and brushed his hair back. Stanley could only stifle something between a laugh and a sigh - a laugh because LeFou certainly wasn’t expecting this reaction upon just meeting his boyfriend of two month’s family and his face was priceless, a sigh because he was so glad his mother had taken an immediate liking to LeFou. Meeting the parents was always a stressful part of a relationship and Stanley was glad that it had gone so well.

The same couldn’t be said for when Stanley met LeFou’s family.

It wasn’t like they weren’t nice people; they were pleasant enough. They smiled and nodded and asked Stanley questions about his job over dinner at a restaurant. But that was what immediately struck Stanley as unwelcoming - they insisted that they meet out in a small bistro instead of going over to the LeFou family home. They had traveled so far to meet them, the least they could do was open their door to greet their son’s new significant other. 

As LeFou drove Stanley back to their home town, he joked, “I wanted to see all those embarrassing baby pictures of you.”

Although LeFou laughed at the quip, he seemed a little upset by the remark. Stanley decided not to pry any further. He knew that one day he might see where his boyfriend grew up and that with time his parents might warm up to him. 

But as the years wore on, the tension between Stanley and LeFou’s parents never really softened. LeFou rarely spoke about them or really to them. In a way, he was nearly the opposite of Stanley, who didn’t go a day without his phone lighting up like a Christmas tree with text messages from or sisters or that he gave a long winded story about a funny thing that happened during a family vacation. It was almost as if LeFou had sprouted on his own, without any real roots, a drifter before he found Stanley. Every year from the year they first got together, LeFou insisted they spend holidays with Stanley’s family if they were going to 

Stanley decided not to press the issue. If LeFou was comfortable, he’d talk about it.

He expected the conversation to come organically, a confession during a walk or a talk wrapped in each other’s embrace on the couch. 

He didn’t expect it to come when LeFou was stricken with grief.

Stanley could still remember waking up in the middle of the night to LeFou’s phone ringing. He remembered how LeFou murmured, “ _Maman_?” with a groggy voice and bleary eyes. He sat up in bed. “What?” Stanley heard him take a deep breath as he swung his legs out of bed and walked across the bedroom towards the living room. Stanley decided not to follow him.  

When he returned just five minutes later, he had a grave face, pale and serious. 

“My grandmere died.”Stanley could remember his boyfriend collapsing and crying into his shoulder. He could remember wrapping his arms around him and whispering, “I am so sorry” even though he knew his words couldn’t help. From the small glances he got at LeFou’s family life before they came together, he knew that LeFou and his grandmother had a strong relationship She had cared for him while his parents worked and had a huge hand in raising him. This loss must have hurt him deeply.

The next morning, after Stanley made them breakfast in bed, he asked when the funeral was.

LeFou seemed disinterested in his eggs, but he stared intensely at them as he mumbled, “You can’t go.” 

Stanley perched on the edge of the bed. “Why not?”

LeFou sighed and then looked at him. He was crying again. “They don’t know about you.” He shook his head. “They don’t know about me.”

And that floored Stanley. LeFou always seemed so open. He certainly seemed like he had been out of the closet much longer than Stanley had been. He couldn’t imagine that he was so secretive to his family.

“But your parents -” He began.

“Are the only people who know,” LeFou said. Through his tears, he confessed that although his mother and father took his coming out well, there were many members of the family who wouldn’t have the same reaction. With it wrapped up in lies and silence, LeFou couldn’t attend the funeral of his grandmother with a mystery man. 

Stanley nodded slowly and then pushed the breakfast aside so that he could hold his boyfriend in his arms. They slid down onto the bed and clasped onto one another. Through reassuring kisses and gentle strokes of his hand against LeFou’s puffy with tears cheeks, Stanley was desperate to comfort him. How he wanted to be there for his love in this time of need, but he knew it was not the time nor place.

 But he could be here right now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short little fic about Lefou's family. I really don't write much angst, but what do you do with a prompt like "rejection"?


	12. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the office, Lefou and Stanley embark on their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoop finally Office AU!!

It was strange, LeFou noted, seeing Stanley out of a suit and tie. For their first (or, arguably second) date, Stanley emerged from his apartment in dark wash jeans and a fitted tee shirt. It was then that he realized that it had been a very long time since he had seen his co-worker in anything else but office attire. And it took him aback when he realized that this really was the first time he had seen the  _ real _ Stanley. 

The real Stanley with his perfectly coiffed hair and just-right clothing and - LeFou noted - just the slightest bit of mascara and eyeliner. Stanley would have never dared with makeup in the office, but the subtle pink on his lips suited him so well and LeFou wished he could see him with it everyday. 

He smiled to himself at the thought that maybe he was going to see this Stanley everyday as the two of them decided to take a walk down by the river after they had finished dinner. Hand in hand, they walked down to the waterfront as LeFou thought about what this relationship with his coworker meant. Accountant Stanley was charming enough, with his soft smile and laughter, but LeFou was excited to see the Stanley that went beyond the office cubicle walls and to see where they would go, together.

“What are you thinking about?” Stanley brought him back with this question. 

“Oh!” LeFou looked up to him. He looked so dreamy in the city’s lights although even in the fluorescent lighting of the employee lounge, just a glance sent LeFou’s heart skipping beats. “Just, you know, that I finally get to know Stanley Bernard.” He clarified. “You know, in more than a nine-to-five context.”

Stanley shared his smile and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad I get to know Etienne LeFou outside of nine-to-five.”

They had the whole world before them, a brand-new start. So where to begin?

Breaking the peaceful silence between them, LeFou said,“Tell me something that I don’t know about Stanley Bernard.” He clarified, “Something I wouldn’t know from working with him for the past seven months.”

“Oh, wow.” Stanley whistled at the idea, giving it serious thought. For a moment, LeFou felt bad for asking such a hard-hitting questions right away, but Stanley didn’t say anything about it so he was assured that he wasn’t overstepping an invisible line or anything. 

“So, you know those arts and crafts festivals that they have in summer and fall?” He finally asked LeFou.

“Yeah.”

“Well, my mother liked to make quilts in her downtime with leftover fabric samplings,” Stanley continued. “And so she’d sell a few just to help boost our college fund. Well, one time, I helped her set up at this one festival, but she let me get the afternoon off. And, ah - ” He laughed in that sweet Stanley way that made LeFou grin. “It was a cider festival and I was just of age to drink, so I go very tipsy. And that was how I ended up with a very expensive sword.”

LeFou laughed. “A sword?” He repeated. “Were you hoping to slay a possible dragon or go into Ninja training or what?”

“And you know what’s worse? It’s still hanging above my TV in my apartment,” Stanley admits. “I never returned it because I lost the business card of the seller.”

The two of them laughed for a little bit over the shard image of a massive Medieval sword guarding Stanley’s home before Stanley implored, “So, what about you? What do I not know about Etienne?”

Struck with his own question, he pondered for a moment before answering, “Well. It’s a bit of a fun fact, but it’s really interesting because it’s really rare, but I dream mostly in black and white.”

Stanley seemed surprised before asking, “Wait, that’s a thing?”

“Uh-huh.” LeFou nodded. “I was pretty much raised by my grandmother and she watched a bunch of black and white movies and shows. So if I watched tv, it was usually  _ I Love Lucy  _ or  _ Dick Van Dyke  _ reruns. And apparently that affects how you dream? I didn’t think about it much and then I just thought it was something I was born with because I already won the neuro lottery with dyslexia, but it turns out it was just Lucille Ball and Mary Tyler Moore.”

“So what’s that like? Dreaming in black and white?”

“It’s like having all of your dreams like a film noir,” LeFou admitted, laughing. 

Stanley smiled. They were down by the river now and the city was aglow with light, looking something right out of a picture. On the bike path they followed, the two found a park bench to sit and watch the boats rumble by and the lamplight twinkle on the the crests of the waves they left behind. It seemed like the perfect end to this date. 

What made it even better was when Stanley leaned over and kissed his cheek like a school child. What was the best was when he wrapped his arms around and leaned against him because it was better than any dream he had ever had, black and white or not. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ya'll, if you would still like to join our challenge, you can find the prompt list on my blog! Have a swell day~
> 
> https://thestanfoubrew.tumblr.com/post/161253380449/beauty-and-the-beast-fanfictionfanart-celebration )


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